


Group Support

by whalehuntingboyfriends



Category: Lazer Team (2015)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, extremely inaccurate space stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 19:24:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7983352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalehuntingboyfriends/pseuds/whalehuntingboyfriends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hagan hates being in space. He hates that everyone else <i>doesn’t</i> hate being in space. Also, he’s having a crisis about their ability to actually do this whole ‘defend the planet’ thing.</p>
<p>It’s a shame none of his teammates seem to care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Group Support

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing a Lazer Team fic!
> 
> This is for the prompt "group support" for the Lazer Team weekly prompt challenge. (observe how creative my fic titles are lmao)

So the thing is, Hagan doesn’t actually know what’s meant to come next. You know, after the whole _saving the world_ business.

He vaguely thinks they might give him money. Do you get paid for saving the entire planet? You should, right? It’d be nice, you know, after risking his _life_ and shit. Getting his ex-wife’s cabin all blown up - fuck, he still has to pay for that. Or _they’ll_ pay for that, whoever the mysterious _they_ are. The world government. The UN. The powers-that-be.

They’ll find a way to take this shield off him, now that they’re not under so much pressure and have the time to properly experiment on it, and they’ll put it on someone else who deserves it much more than he does (don’t think about Adam, not now, not so soon) and Hagan will get paid (hopefully) and then he’ll, like, go on Ellen or Oprah or some shit, do a few interviews (get even more money, ho ho ho) and then he’ll…

What?

Return to his old, dull life as the town sheriff? Maybe? Look, he’s sure not up for much more excitement. It’d be a _relief_ after all this.

Or maybe he could retire. Write a book. Oh my God, there’s an idea - he can write a book about all this!

(Get even _more_ fucking money-)

And then retire comfortably to the seaside. Yes, there’s a plan. Come into the city occasionally. Visit Mindy in college. Because Earth’s been _saved_ , now, there’s nothing else for them to do really. Right? They’ll probably just need to answer some of DETIA’s questions about how the suit worked, and then they’ll let them go.

“But you can’t retire,” Woody says, when Hagan expresses this extremely well-thought out, money-making life plan to the rest of them. He sounds confused, a funny little furrow between his brows - his face weirdly, startlingly clean behind the helmet compared to where the rest of him is absolutely caked in mud and soot and dirt from the day’s hectic events. “We have to defend the planet!”

“Yeah, but we already _did_ that,” Hagan points out.

They’re sitting in the military base. Not in a cell this time, or in an interrogation room - just chilling out in this random foyer while some sort of top-secret, Very Important Meeting goes on behind them which they were not invited to. Hagan’s pretty sure the president’s in there, judging by all the men in sunglasses he saw walking around earlier. It’s a nice foyer, though. They’re clearly guests here rather than prisoners. There’s even a little bowl of jellybeans on the table in front of them.

Hagan’s aching all over, and ready to sleep for a week, but they got pretty lucky. No serious injuries (except for Adam, but _don’t think about Adam_ , not right now, later, maybe, when you’re alone and you can properly process it-)

Woody’s still frowning.

“Yes, we fended off the Antareans and the Worg,” he begins, in the tone of voice that Hagan _knows_ means he’s about to open the floodgates to the Wikipedia that now apparently exists in his brain, “But given the plan that we saw for the Antareans’ games, there are at the very least 18 more unidentified alien species in existence somewhere in the universe. Clearly the majority of them have the ability to travel faster than light - they could show up any day! Earth currently has no extraterrestrial defences, no ability to begin exploring for ourselves, and given what we did to the Antareans there’s at least a 76 percent chance that we’ve put ourselves on some other species’ radar as a _threat_ -”

“Yeah,” Hagan cuts in, his head starting to swim a little, “Okay, sure, but they’ll find someone else, won’t they? Find a way to take this shit off us and put it on them instead. Now they have time to do it.”

A low chuckle has both of them looking over at Herman. He’s shaking his head slowly, eyebrows raised so high they’re in danger of flying right off his face. He’s opted to sprawl out on the floor rather than sit in one of the chairs, and has been occupying himself tossing up jelly beans and catching them in his mouth. So far they have landed in his throat and made him choke three times.

“I’d like to see them fucking try!” he declares. “Shit man, like hell I’m about to give up _my_ part of this. Try and take it! I’ll kick your ass! Literally!”

He starts kicking his feet up in the air, like some sort of middle-aged, balding _Can Can_ dancer. Hagan can only roll his eyes and stare at him, but somehow the display is endearing rather than obnoxious, the way he once might have found it, and he finds himself watching with something perilously close to _fondness_.

That’s maybe the one good thing that’s come out of all this (you know, alongside all the potential dough he’s gonna make). The bad blood between himself and Herman had festered for far too long. Maybe it just took an alien invasion to get over it, but it’s a weight off Hagan’s shoulders, and he’s glad to have a _friend_ again.

Still. It makes sense. The boots give Herman a mobility and freedom that of course he wouldn’t want to give up - and a moment later, Hagan sees Woody shaking his head too. Minutely, a funny look on his face that’s suddenly far too vulnerable, and Hagan bites his lip and looks away as he realises that of course, of _course_ those two don’t want to give up their pieces of the suit. Of course they don’t want to go back to how things were.

_(Do you really want to? You were a nobody. A joke. You want that, again?)_

Maybe it’s the sense of inadequacy, of guilt, that’s making him think it would be better if they just passed this on to someone more capable. They fumbled their way through saving the world once before, but who’s to say the next time they won’t get unlucky and fuck it up and, you know, doom their entire species to being imprisoned slaves of some sort of galactic threat? Maybe he just doesn’t believe he can live up to expectations.

He glances over at Zach, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet - only to find the young man slumped over in his seat, chin nearly on his chest, tongue sticking out in concentration. Texting _furiously_. Or at least, Hagan assumes he’s texting, fuck if he knows - what do kids do on phones nowadays? Maybe he’s snapbagging, or on instamatic - what’s it called? _Facebook,_ he knows what Facebook is, at least. He might be doing that.

“Zach,” he says, and Zach emits that particular sort of grunt that only teenagers are capable of, that lets you know they’re _apparently_ listening, but whether they’re paying attention or not will depend a hell of a lot on what you’re about to say. “You don’t really think they’re gonna let you keep that laser gun?”

“Why not?” Zach replies, without looking up.

“You could kill someone with that thing!”

“Kinda the point, Hagan,” Zach says. “What’s the problem? You think they won’t let us fight the next threat? We killed the other one! Besides, didn’t you hear that guy before? They’re gonna send us to space!”

Hagan processes that, and starts laughing. He’d brushed that off as soon as it was said, mostly because it’s the most ludicrous fucking thing he’s ever heard. That’s definitely not what’s about to happen.

“They’re not actually fucking sending us to space,” he scoffs.

 

\---

 

They actually fucking send them to space.

 

\---

 

It turns out DETIA was hiding more from the public than just the potentially impending destruction of the planet resting solely on the shoulders of a single, very ripped individual ( _don’t think about Adam,_ don’t think about how this didn’t have a happy ending for everybody).

They’re hiding a spaceship as well.

It’s not like any of the shuttles or rockets that Hagan’s seen taking off on the news. It seems that the technology from the pod the suit came in was the final piece in the research they needed to create something out of fucking Star Wars - artificial gravity, shields, faster than light travel, the works. Apparently Woody was wrong - apparently Earth is much farther ahead than anyone ever thought.

“Okay, but has anyone actually tried to use this thing yet?” Hagan asks, when it is unveiled to them with rather a lot of fanfare.

Officer Vandenbloom gives him one of those slow, innocent blinks that he has perfected.

“That’s what you’re for,” he says, like it’s _obvious_ , because of course they haven’t fucking tested the spaceship yet. No biggie.

Everything is fine, it turns out. It all works as intended, and they do a whole lot of simulations before going up, and Woody gets taught how to fly the damn thing (because apparently of all of them they trust him the most; Hagan is faintly offended, but then takes one look at the control panel and is rather glad that someone else has to deal with all that). And then the next thing he fucking knows, he’s in space.

He’s in fucking _space_.

In fucking orbit somewhere between the Earth and the Moon and apparently the general idea of this mission is that this is a test run for when they inevitably get sent out to go and try make… alien allies, or what fucking ever, but for now they’re just making sure they know how to fly the damn thing while also keeping an eye out for threats. Which makes them the only current defence between the Earth and whatever else might be out there.

Okay. Great. Fantastic. No pressure.

God, Hagan is way too old for this shit.

 

\---

 

It takes about two days before the novelty wears off and Hagan just really, really fucking wants to go home.

  
He misses Mindy. He misses proper, hot, home-cooked food. He misses being able to take a shit without having to triple check whether he remembered to activate the toilet’s suction system. He misses not having to worry about whether said toilet is gonna _suck his intestines out_ (thanks, Zach, for that wonderfully graphic story).

There’s nothing to do up here.

He trains every day in the simulation room, practicing using his shield, but when he’s not doing that he spends a lot of time standing at the window staring mournfully down at planet Earth turning slowly below them. Man, that is a lot of deforestation. Or maybe it’s just winter. Is that a cyclone approaching Australia? Shit, should he radio down and warn them? Oh wait, no, it’s just a lot of clouds.

Hagan never particularly thought that he loved his planet, or even his country. But out here, in the vast coldness and darkness and lonely _silence_ of space, the planet down below looks so warm and welcoming that he feels like his heart might burst with how much he wants to go back there.

Also, he keeps dreaming about food. Triple cheeseburger with onions, oh my fucking _God_ , he wants it. Or a hot pizza, fresh from the oven. You don’t get that up here. Raspberry cheesecake. His favourite latte from that café that’s been in their town for three generations.

“You’re killing the vibe, man,” a voice behind him says one evening (or at least, Hagan assumes it’s evening. It’s hard to tell in space).

He jumps, spinning around. He was doing his usual stare-pensively-out-the-window thing. Hands folded behind his back, the works, gazing down at the beautiful blue planet.

Herman is leaning in the doorway to the observation deck, one eyebrows raised and looking _distinctly unimpressed_. Hagan’s not quite sure what the other man does all day, but what he _does_ know is that no one else seems to miss Earth in the slightest, and quite frankly it is driving him mad!

They’re all having the time of their fucking lives. Every time he sees them they’re having a blast messing with the ship, or the training simulation room, or turning off the gravity in their rooms, while he seems to be the only one complaining about things like his fucked up sleep cycle or the shitty food or the _isolation_.

He’d’ve thought Herman would hate it up here because there’s no alcohol and no cigarettes. The last thing they want is a fire on this fucking ship. He’s seen _Gravity_.

“What vibe?” he shoots back, indignantly. “There is no vibe!”

“Not any more,” Herman replied, easily. “Because you _killed it_. Moping around here staring out into space, looking like someone killed your dog.”

Hagan snorts, turns back to the window, realises he’s only proving Herman’s point, and turns back around, unsure what to do with his hands when they’re not wrapped around himself like they’re holding everything in.

“I don’t have a dog,” he says, and Herman shakes his head.

“Because it _also_ died,” he replies, “Of sadness, after seeing that damn mournful face you’re pulling.”

He does a rather horrible imitation of it, contorting his face so absurdly that Hagan can only huff out a laugh. After a moment, Herman comes up next to him, leaning against the window instead.

“Seriously,” he says, voice a little softer. “What’s wrong with you? The kids are having the time of their lives.”

“We’re not here to have fun,” Hagan begins, but Herman’s already scoffing.

“Yeah, but there’s not much else to do! You’re in fucking space, dude. You know how many little children dream of getting to be an astronaut? Enjoy it.”

“I’m surprised you like it here,” Hagan shoots back. “Don’t you miss Earth? Don’t you miss…” he trails off, helplessly, before throwing his hands up. “ _Everything_?”

“Nope!” Herman replies, immediately and with such confidence that Hagan can only stare at him. “Fuck Earth. I like it up here. No idiots around to bother me - did you see some of the comments on the news articles about us? - it’s fantastic. No assholes, no _society_. No drama. Just free food, a free bed, free entertainment system… it’s like a free space holiday except there’re no other tourists! We won the fucking lottery.”

Except, Hagan can’t help but think a little bitterly, for the part where they nearly _died_ down there - _where Adam did_ _die_ \- where eventually the aliens will come back and they’ll be expected to to fight again, the weight of the literal world on their shoulders.

“Yeah, well,” he mutters. “I have a house down there. And a family.”

That makes Herman go quiet.

“We won’t be up here forever,” he says finally.

Hagan just shakes his head slowly.

“Feels like we are,” he replies, and sighs, turning away and returning to moping. Herman doesn’t understand, he thinks, a little bitterly. Hagan would never go so far as to say that he himself was _successful_ before all this, but he was _content_ , or something close to it. Or maybe he’s just lying to himself, but other way, there was a comfort and security to the routine of his old life. He was a sheriff but their town was sleepy enough that there was never any real pressure, any real danger. Now that there _is_ , suddenly he’s not so sure he’s equipped.

Herman lingers for a moment, watching him. But he doesn't say anything more, just turns around after a moment and wanders off. Hagan hesitates as he watches his reflection walk out in the dark glass in front of him. Suddenly, he feels lonelier than ever.

 

\---

 

And so it continues.

Woody is no help. He has been disgustingly cheerful since he figured out how to open the visor on his helmet. Now that he can actually eat, he spends all his time figuring out new functions of the suit, badgering them all into team simulations, or, Hagan suspects, watching shit on the back of his helmet’s screen since apparently it has magical alien internet access or whatever. He’s pretty sure half the time Woody looks like he’s staring off into space, he’s actually just browsing reddit.

Being up here in space away from the rest of society doesn’t seem to bother him, either. Then again, both he and Herman always seemed to prefer being off on their own, doing their own thing. Maybe being away from the rest of humanity is a dream come true for them.

But not for Zach, Hagan thinks, when two weeks have passed and it’s becoming fucking _unbearable_. Perhaps it’s pathetic that it’s the teen he’s arrested half a dozen times who he seeks out, thinking maybe _he’ll_ understand.

And at first, he kind of does. Zach spends a lot of time either shooting things in the training room or on his own entertainment system, apparently fairly content. But when Hagan coaxes him out of his room to have a ‘grumpy old man complaining sesh’ with him, it actually seems to go well.

“Yeah, I guess it is pretty boring!” Zach says, after Hagan voices his complaints one-on-one.

By this point, he’s so desperate for _anyone_ to agree with him that he drinks it up eagerly.

“ _Exactly right_!” he roars, as though Zach had agreed with him as enthusiastically as he is speaking now. “There’s nothing to do! The ship’s not even moving. And there’s no one _around_ \- except you idiots, that is.”

“I bet my friends miss me,” Zach agrees. “I bet their parties are so fucking dull now without me to liven things up.”

“See, no parties!” Hagan says, latching onto that. “You don’t get parties in space!”

“Yeah,” Zach replies, starting to get a bit fired up now. “And no drinks either. That’s a lame rule.”

“ _Exactly_ ,” Hagan says. “I could do with one myself after all this shit they’re putting us through.” Studiously avoiding the fact that he did technically sign the papers agreeing to come up here. What else could he do? Emery was looking at him with that intent, serious look - a lurking sadness in his eyes - and all Hagan could think of was how Adam wanted them to do this, how no one else would, how they couldn’t disappoint the old man.

“And no chicks,” Zach continues loudly.

“Yes,” Hagan says, a bit awkwardly. “I miss Mindy as well.”

“You’re right!” Zach declares. “It’s kinda lame! But at the same time,” he adds, another thought striking him, “I bet I’m the youngest person to ever go to space. There’s gotta be a world record or something for that, right?”

Hagan grits his teeth, but Zach’s already jumping to another topic.

“So when do you reckon we’ll get to go kill aliens?”

“We won’t kill anything!” Hagan cries, “We’ll just sit around here until something comes along that kills _us_!”

He’s pretty sure Zach’s not even listening.

“I’m probably not the first person to jack off in space,” he muses, “Bet the previous astronauts already have that covered.”

“Focus here, Zach, we’re complaining about the bad things!” Hagan says. “The food - don’t you miss burgers?”

“I miss football?” Zach supplies.

“Exactly!” Hagan declares, latching onto that. “There are no football fields in space!”

He leaves the conversation at least appeased that he’s made someone else’s day miserable. Maybe he and Zach can continue complaining together. After all, there’s nothing that brings two people closer together than complaining about things they both hate, right?

He entertains some fond, fatherly thoughts about them getting some sort of bonding time. Maybe Zach will start to look up to him as an old, wise, grumpy mentor who sees the cynical reality of things. And then he will somehow morph into an ideal son-in-law once they get back to Earth.

So he’s a big more cheerful in the knowledge that Zach, too, will be spending a miserably, lonely, uneventful time here in space with him.

 

\---

 

And then, of course, he walks into the control room one day to find Woody straddling Zach’s lap in the pilot’s seat.

It looks like they’re trying, and rather comically _failing_ , to kiss, because even with the helmet’s visor down something’s getting in the way - maybe the rim of the helmet, or Woody’s nose.

Either way, they spring apart when the door opens, Zach instinctively shoving Woody off so that he falls to the ground, and then striking an absurd pose like he was busily lost in thought. Yeah, just sitting there fucking philosophically contemplating life.

Hagan freezes for a long moment, unable to believe his eyes.

“What the _fuck_?” he manages, finally.

He really can’t believe this. He knew the other two were getting on better, mostly because they’re a similar age, because Woody always has to help Zach aim his weapon, and because in training _all_ of them are getting along more. But this - this is a whole new level of _that came out of fucking nowhere!_

Zach opens his mouth. Hagan _sees_ him contemplate lying, then he appears to decide he doesn’t care.

“Bit of privacy, thanks?” he replies, instead.

Hagan splutters.

“There’s a giant fucking window next to you!” he says, pointing furiously at the viewport. “The whole of _Earth_ can see!”

“Actually, the distance-” Woody begins from the floor, but Hagan shoots him such a withering look that he snaps his mouth shut.

“What the fuck is going on?” he repeats, looking between them. Despite his nonchalance, Zach’s face is flushed, and Woody’s eyes are wide. “Are you two…?”

“Oh yeah, we’re touching tips,” Zach says, so fucking casually that Hagan is taken aback for a moment.

“But you… Mindy… what?”

“Oh, we’re still together,” Zach replies. “We’ve got an open relationship.”

“A _what_?” poor Hagan demands, flabbergasted.

“Yeah, we agreed before I went into space that we could both get with other people,” Zach says, shrugging. “You know, so I can bang the hot alien chicks we’ll inevitably encounter-”

“That’s one of the top three ways you are likely to contract an alien disease,” Woody supplies.

“And also because I wasn’t about to make _her_ wait for me down there,” Zach continues. “Like, she has a life. I don’t wanna hold her back just because I’m not on the fucking planet anymore. We’re still dating, though. We talk every night.”

“You do?” Hagan asks weakly. To be honest, he’s a bit put out, because Mindy doesn’t even talk to _him_ every night, despite the top of the line communication system DETIA’s provided them all with. And suddenly he’s a bit more hurt than he wants to admit. Betrayed, too. Everyone’s having a grand old time without him, it seems.

“Yeah, of course!” Zach replies, so matter-of-factly that it really doesn’t help.

“I talk to her too,” Woody pipes up, and Hagan glances between them again, still trying to make sense of all this.

“So this is… what’s going on _here_?” he demands, rather helplessly.

“Still figuring it out,” Zach replies, cheerfully, “But it was fun until you came along and interrupted us!”

Woody’s still sitting on the floor, blinking up at Hagan all innocent like. Honestly, Hagan has never been quite sure what to make of him. He underwent such a drastic change with the helmet that he has no idea what Woody’s thinking. Sometimes he still sees him as a bit clueless, ready to believe anything people tell him, too easily influenced - it makes the fatherly part of him want to protect him. But since he “got smart” or whatever it was the helmet did, Hagan never quite knows what’s going through his head. If it’s changed the way he looks at things. Especially since he’s pretty quiet outside of telling them whatever facts or statistics they currently need to know.

He holds out a hand, and Woody lets him pull him easily to his feet. Hagan leans in close.

“What about you?” he asks, quietly. “You okay with this whole arrangement?”

Woody looks up at him, still holding onto his arm.

“Like Zach said,” he replies. “We’re still figuring it out.”

His voice is quite serious - but a moment later, there’s something clearly very bright and affectionate in how he glances at Zach, over Hagan’s shoulder, and smiles. It’s a look Hagan hasn’t seen on him before. And Zach, who rarely gave Woody a second look before this whole business, who operates in such a different social circle that it’s ridiculous, who Hagan would never have expected this from - Hagan sees him smile back, the sort of soft, almost shy smile that he gives Mindy. Not just his usual leer or smirk.

It makes something ache in his chest, and he lets go of Woody to rub at his temples instead. He would be worried about how complicated all this seems, but they actually seem to have their shit together. Much more than he does, at least. Here he is, old and alone and _sad_ \- who’s he gonna be to tell them what they can and can’t do?

“Just… be careful,” he manages finally. “There’s no formula for this… whatever it is you’ve got going on.”

“Yeah there is,” Zach replies immediately. “Between us we’ve got two dicks, four-”

“ _Nope_ , I’m out!” Hagan throws his hands up and leaves the room. He does _not_ need to know about his teammates’ sex lives, and holy shit, there’s a sentence he never thought he’d utter, God help him.

He pauses out in the corridor, taking a deep breath and struggling to sort out his thoughts.

He’s worried for Mindy, of course he is. But as much as Zach has annoyed him in the past, the young man isn’t malicious, and he knows Mindy is old enough to know what she’s doing. Whatever’s happening between them, however Woody’s now involved - he’ll keep an eye on it, but he won’t interfere unless something drastic happens.

Still. He feels rather betrayed, by _everything_. Now that Zach has something to entertain him, everyone’s having a great time up here except him, and no one seems to care that he _isn’t_. And now those two are together and they’re gonna be even more annoyingly chipper and Hagan…

Hagan isn’t quite sure what he wants.

_To go home. To feel like you’re actually in control of your fucking life. To not feel like you’ve been thrown in the deep end and you’re struggling on your own. To actually know what you’re doing, why you’re here. To not feel like you’re in this_ alone.

 

\---

 

Hagan’s lying miserably in his bed, feeling terribly sorry for himself, when there’s a rap at his door. Whoever it is barely waits two seconds before barging in anyway, and Hagan sits up, squinting grumpily. It’s Herman who comes to the bedside and stares down at him.

“I came to find you,” he announces. “You haven’t been out of this room all day.”

Hagan rubs his eyes. He’s lost track of time since he retreated in here to sulk.

“We being attacked by aliens?” he asks.

“No.”

“Then leave me alone.” He throws himself back down, turning over to face the wall. Herman plonks himself on the bed next to him, the hard mattress bouncing a little under his weight. Hagan tries to ignore how the other man’s sitting so close he can feel the warmth of his body against his back.

“What’s eating at you?” Herman asks.

Hagan’s silent for a long moment. But there’s genuine concern in Herman’s voice, and after a moment he sighs and rolls over to look at him.

“Did you know Woody and Zach are together?” he asks.

Herman raises an eyebrows.

“Yeah,” he replies, “Found out yesterday. They’re not exactly keeping it a secret. Also, Woody told me.” He shrugs. “Not a pair I expected to happen, but, you know. Opposites attract and all that. What the fuck do I know? They seem happy.”

Hagan bites his lip.

“Has Woody said much to you about his piece of the suit?” he asks.

Something passes across Herman’s face.

“Not a lot,” he replies, slowly. “But I know it changed him. Kid’s always struggled a bit, you know? But the helmet, it lets him understand things that he couldn’t before. It gives him the words he needs to express himself. Parts of him are the same, other parts have changed so much that of course he feels different. Of course it’s hard to adjust to that. But neither of us want to go back,” he adds, fiercely.

It’s strange to hear him sound so serious.

“It’s not all fun and games, though,” Hagan replies. “With these… these _things_ ,” he waves his arm, where he’s got the gauntlet on, “There’s responsibility. The scientists are working on a way to take them off, but Emery told me we’ll probably still be genetically bonded to them and no one else will be able to use them. The whole planet depends on us, Hagan - for _real_. People could get hurt. They _have_ gotten hurt.”

Sometimes, he’s not sure if the others even register how serious all the shit that happened was. They sure never talk about it. They never talk about Adam, about how all this stuff has had casualties. Could have more. Could be _them_ , or their loved ones.

But he can tell now, from the look on Herman’s face, that he knows it too. Even if he’s never spoken about it. It’s not all fun and games and Herman might laugh and smile and joke constantly, act like he doesn’t care. But Hagan’s seen him - can see it _now_ , in his face. He knows. He cares.

“You’re not happy about them getting together?” Herman asks instead, a deliberate bid to change the subject, and Hagan groans and rolls over to face the wall again.

“No,” he replies, voice muffled into the pillow. “It’s not that, just… I don’t know. I just fucking _hate_ it up here. It’s not that I don’t want them to be happy, but I’m so fucking annoyed that it seems like none of you realise what a mess we’re in. Like we’ve been training, but are we really… we’ll never reach Adam’s level,” he adds, frustrated. “But everyone’s counting on us. And now we’re in fucking outer space, _alone_ , and we have to deal with whatever’s coming at us-”

He breaks off with a choked noise.

“I just _hate_ it here,” he spits, with a vehemence that startles even himself. “I want to go home.”

Herman is quiet for a long moment. Hagan doesn’t turn to look at him. He can feel himself trembling, knows Herman can probably see it.

“Was home so much better?” Herman murmurs, finally.

“Yes,” Hagan replies, and his voice is ragged and choked now, but he can’t bring himself to care. “I just… I miss my house and my stupid sofa and watching TV from the comfort of my own living room. I miss being able to go for walks around town. I miss pizza. I miss my _kid_ -” he snorts, at that, “Apparently she doesn’t miss me. I miss being able to go down to the pub to watch a game and just… just be around _other people_.”

“We’re other people,” Herman mutters.

Hagan just gives a miserable shrug and buries his face in the pillow again. Maybe it’s childish. But he’s just so _tired_.

Herman goes silent again, for quite a long while. Then he sighs heavily, reaches out, and slaps Hagan hard on the back a few times.

“Ow!” Hagan shrieks, curling in on himself before peering at Herman angrily from under his arm. Like a snail poking a single eye-stalk out from the protection of its shell. “What the fuck was that for?”

“I was cheering you up,” Herman informs him.

“By _hitting me_?”

“It wasn’t that hard, you big baby!” Herman scoffs, and Hagan scowls at him.

“I’m not a baby,” he grumbles, childishly.

Herman just gives a low chuckle. He pats him on the shoulders rather more gently, and rises from the bed. A rush of cold air fills the space where he was, and as he exits the room - rather abruptly - Hagan tries not to think about how he wishes he’d stayed. Just to talk to him, to be around _someone_.

Even Herman doesn’t want to be with him, he thinks, miserably. He can understand Woody and Zach not wanting to hang around the old man, but come on. Feeling extremely hurt, he curls up again and closes his eyes. Maybe he can sleep these next few months away.

 

\---

 

Eventually, after God knows how much time has passed, Hagan ventures out of his room to radio DETIA just the same as he does every twenty-four hours. It’s too quiet, that’s the first thing he notices. _Suspiciously_ quiet. Normally he can hear Zach blasting away at something in the training room, or the metallic _clomp-clomp-clomp_ of Herman’s boots on the metal floors.

Now, there’s nothing, and no one in sight.

_Where is everyone_? he thinks, rather suspiciously. He heads for the control room, but as soon as he heads into the kitchen area to get there, he freezes.

“Surprise!” they all yell, a moment too late as he’s already in the room. He still nearly jumps out of his skin, staring around.

“What’s going on here?” he demands, confused and startled. He looks around and notices that the tables are set with food. The best of it - all the others’ dessert rations and the best food packs they have and-

“Oh my God,” he says. “Is that a _pizza_?”

“ _Yes!_ ” Herman yells, probably a bit too excitedly.

A smile spreads slowly across Hagan’s face. It’s a rather makeshift looking pizza, just a piece of flatbread covered with their weird plastic-like cheese and bits of dried tomato. It looks like they nuked it to all hell in their little oven. But it has his favourite toppings on it, even if they look like they came out of cans and were dried, but have been soaked in ketchup to get the moisture back in.

“How’d you know what pizza I like?” he asks, trying and failing to suppress his grin.

“Asked Mindy,” Zach replies, fondly. “She told us your favourite.”

“Also, I remember because it hasn’t fucking changed since we were at school,” Herman adds. “Who the hell puts both pineapples and onions on pizza? What kind of monster are you?”

“Guys, what is all this?” Hagan asks, looking around at all the food, and then at the others, smiling away at him.

“Surprise party,” Herman says. “Look, you moping around this whole time has been really bringing down the mood-”

“Oh, thanks-”

“But I figured,” Herman continues, oddly serious, “Maybe we weren’t being the best teammates. We weren’t very sympathetic. Of course you miss home - why shouldn’t you? We’re further from it than we’ve ever been, than most people ever will be. And Earth _is_ home. I mean, shit, that’s why we’re out here - to protect the people we love, our whole planet-”

“And here I thought my speeches were uninspiring,” Hagan can’t help teasing, mostly because he feels a bit flustered and embarrassed now.

Herman rolls his eyes.

“Shut up, I’m trying to be nice here,” he chides. “Look, we wanted to make you feel at home. So we’re gonna sit around and eat this shitty space food and complain about anything you want. And watch the game,” he adds, and Hagan perks up.

“You can get the game up here?”

“Yes!” Woody pipes up, and taps the side of his helmet. “I can get anything with this!”

“Even porn,” Zach feels the need to contribute, with a shit-eating grin.

Woody’s face goes bright red, and Hagan can’t help but laugh. He’s never seen him blush like that before.

“They didn’t need to know that,” he mutters to Zach, who laughs.

“You’re right, we didn’t,” Hagan says. “Let’s move on! Guys… thank you. I… I guess I’ve felt a bit out of my depth lately. Like I’m not meant to be here.”

He braces himself for the others to laugh, but to his surprise, they nod slowly. There’s something far too vulnerable about the moment. Given all their constant joking around, their brashness and refusal to act like they give two shits, it’s rare they ever talk about things like this.

“None of us are meant to be here,” Woody points out. 

“But they’re stuck with us,” Zach adds. “And they need _all_ of us.”

“Probably you more than anyone,” Herman says, stepping up to Hagan’s side and clapping him on the chest. “We got the brains, the brawn, and the boots,” he says, nodding at each of the others. “But we need a boss to go with it.”

Hagan can’t help his flustered smile - and suddenly can’t quite tell if it’s from the reassuring words or from Herman’s hand over his heart, the other man pressed too close to his side.

“Jeez, can you think of any other B words?” he says, but he can’t stop grinning.

“I always thought of myself as the boss,” Zach muses aloud.

“You’re not the boss,” everyone else replies immediately, in unison, before breaking up laughing.

“If anything, Woody’s the boss,” Hagan says. “He always seem to be the one telling us what to do.”

Woody shakes his head, giving Hagan a small smile.

“I may know the technical side of things, but if anyone can organise us as a proper team it’s you,” he says. “We’ve seen that in our training so far. But you are right - we’re not ready, not yet. We’ve been slacking off - which is why, moving forward, we’ve agreed it’s time to continue training properly. All four of us, like we did back on Earth before they sent us up here. We’ll be prepared, we’ll work together. But it will need _all_ of us. Maybe it will pass the time more,” he adds, with a smile, and Hagan can’t help smiling back fondly.

“Also, Mindy wants to chat with you after our party’s over,” Zach adds.

It feels pathetic to get choked up, but Hagan can’t help it. He can see in their faces that they do care, that maybe they’re just not very good at showing it, but it’s all four of them in this together.

“We’ll be back home before you know it,” Herman says, and squeezes his shoulder, their eyes meeting for a lingering moment.

“Thank you,” Hagan says quietly, and Herman nods, a funny smile passing across his lips before he steps away and claps his hands together.

“Now let’s watch the game!” he roars. “Also, we have no alcohol, so ribena will have to be the drink of choice.”

“Good,” Hagan says, shooting a pointed look at Woody and Zach, who both stare innocently back at him. He still can’t stop smiling, especially as the others set the tablet up and he takes a seat at the table and settles back, reaching to take a piece of the pizza. It looks ghastly, but it’s the thought that counts, and he settles down with a grin, something very warm swelling in his chest.

Across the table, he sees Woody lean against Zach’s side. Zach drapes an arm around his shoulders easily, glancing down at him with a fond look before turning his attention to the football game on the screen.

Hagan watches them for a moment, before turning and exchanging a glance with Herman. They smile knowingly at each other before Herman sits down next to Hagan, bumping their own arms together with a grin. The sudden contact sends a shiver through Hagan suddenly that he can’t explain, but he leans into it with a smile as the noise and raucous of the game fills the silence of space, as Herman and Zach start yelling angrily along with it.

Maybe he’s gotten too fond of these people without even realising it. But he lets himself acknowledge it now - they’re not idiots, and they’re not incapable, and most of all, he’s not alone up here.

**Author's Note:**

> [Join me writing Lazer Team fics each week! <3](http://whalehuntingboyfriends.tumblr.com/post/149931537439/lazer-team-weekly-prompt-challenge)


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